


I Shall Not Savage You

by impossiblesongs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Purple Wedding mayhem, Sansa misses her family and it makes me sad all day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ser Dontos is suddenly at her side and he’s saying the words she’s longed to hear for so long. He is urging her to come along, that they don’t have much time, but then Cersei is laying the blame on Tyrion. Sansa can’t help but feel like going to him, rushing to his side to defend him as he had defended her many times over.</i> (Spoilers for 4x02)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Shall Not Savage You

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
>  **AN:** This worked better by the narrative of the show rather than the books, just thought I'd make that clear upfront. I did not tag the Starks other than Sansa because they are only mentions and not actual parts of the fic. Also,this will mark my first venture into this fandom. I can only hope I do it justice.

_When you’re old enough, I’ll make you a match with someone who’s worthy of you. Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong._

That’s what her Father had said. It came to her mind and she felt herself sharpen like the edge of fine steel. Winter, she realizes, is what breathes life into her skin. Cold and frozen and impenetrable like the Wall. It’s the only strength she finds is useful in King’s Landing. To survive she must hide away inside of herself because winter has come, taking all of her family with it.

To the onlookers, her eyes are wide open but she is far away from the wedding and the Lions who surround her. Far away from the dwarves gathered around to play in Joffrey’s efforts to humiliate his uncle and to add another purposeful claw mark onto her skin.

Joffrey takes such blatant delight in reminding her of how he’s taken one Stark’s head after another and so the dwarf intended to be her brother Robb is her very own tormenter. The Lions never seem to satisfy of wounding her. All but one.

Tyrion’s hand resting over her own only moments after Joffrey’s brand of entertainment had started brought an odd little warmth to her. A breath of summer through the snow. She pulled away from his comfort the other day when Shae quite rudely spoke to him of how she had refused to eat.

The look on his face when she mentioned what the Frey’s had done to her family was not expected. At that moment it seemed like no one could hate him more than he hated himself. Then he had said such kind things in regards to her mother and her brother that it made her angry. How dare he try to be anything but a Lannister? She had to remind herself that a little lion is still a lion, kind words or not.

Sansa would never admit it aloud, but she had come to recognize that all three traits her Father had named were ones her Lord husband possessed in one manner or another. He wasn’t the glorified knight she’d fallen for through the stories of song and he would never have been the face anyone would have wanted, yet when Tyrion took her under his protection that day in the Great Sept of Baelor he’d been trying his hardest to keep that vow. In fact, he’d done so long before they were forced to join as husband and wife.

She had always been taken aback, fearful even, of Tyrion’s lack of worry over filtering his words but Sansa soon found it was by voice that Tyrion possessed the three traits her Father had named.

_Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong._

Tyrion was brave. That day in the throne room, back when she was still betrothed to Joffrey and he had commanded Ser Meryn to strike her and then to rip her clothes from her body, humiliating and shaming her traitor blood for all to see, it was Tyrion’s voice that rang loud in the room, echoing from the walls and putting a stop to his nephew’s torment. It was Tyrion’s who dared challenge Joffrey’s actions in a crowded room full of onlookers. He did it a lot actually, Tyrion never seemed to care what company was surrounding them. Even if he couldn’t put a definite end to Joffrey’s atrocities it never stopped him from trying to stop those he could.

Tyrion’s voice had always been gentle when he asked after her well-being. ( _Are you hurt, my lady?_ ) He had been the only one in King’s Landing who offered his condolences when they had removed her Father’s head. ( _My lady, I’m sorry for your loss.)_ His touches, whenever he did reach out for her, were never done with ill intentions but instead in an act to comfort her. Though she may not have reacted presently, the simple act of his hand covering hers is a comfort she can feel even in the steel fortress she’d hidden herself behind.

She remembers the day news came to her of what happened at the Twins. Of what horrid things they did to her brother and Lady mother. The name they said was Walder Frey but she had been around Lions long enough to recognize claw marks when she sees them. It was enough for her to hate any and every Lannister, so when Tyrion walked into their bedchamber, his voice soft as he called for her, she could do nothing but hate him on sight. He seemed to get the message without her having to say anything and he left her be.

There was one lucky day where Margaery had a little time to walk along the gardens for a few moments, just the two of them, like it used to be before the wedding plans for her and Joffrey had taken all of her time. Margaery hugged her tight, conveying what she wanted to say but couldn't. Not with eyes and ears at every turn. Their topics varied as they usually did until her friend suddenly asked if Sansa had heard of Tyrion’s outburst with the Small Council just days ago, ironically they very day she learned of what happened to her mother and Robb. Margaery had to suffer through the retelling from Joffrey but it only took some prodding for her to find out the extent to Tyrion’s heated words.

“They said they could hear him all the way to the other side of the Red Keep.” Margaery had told her. “They are most like exaggerating, mind you, but he did. He told Joffrey you were no longer his to torment and he seemingly left no room for anyone to argue otherwise.” Margaery turned to face her and ran delicate fingers through Sansa’s long hair. Her friend smiled kindly, “You may be wed to a Lion but his claws seem to be meant for those who would do you harm.”

Her Lord husband didn’t know she knew about that, she hadn’t told him either, but it left her noticing the unique strength Tyrion had. It was not one of battle or glory or songs but it was that he chose to give her kindness. He, a Lion himself, was all that stood between his own family causing her more anguish. She realizes now what brand of strength it took for him to have refused the bedding ceremony, no matter how unpleasantly phrased his refusal had been. Then he did so again, the strength of restraint, by refusing to share her bed unless she consented.

Tyrion was not in any way what she wanted and she’s more than sure he’s not what her Father would have wanted for her either but Lord Eddard named three things. Three things that would prove a man worthy of her hand in his eyes and Tyrion had proven to be capable of all of three.  

Tyrion came to her the day of their wedding and promised never to hurt her, as of yet he's never done so willingly. She doesn't think she could ever love him like a husband but the actions he takes, has already taken, in order to keep that promise give her the nerve to want to try.

She thinks of her mother, Lady Catelyn, and how the marriage to her father started on a similar path. Two strangers, completely opposite, and yet they found love anyway. 

It’s what makes her move from her chair and pick up Joffrey’s goblet. It’s what makes her meet Tyrion’s eyes as she hands it over to her Lord husband.

_Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong._

It all happens too fast after that. Joffrey is on the floor, gasping for air and not finding any. Ser Dontos is suddenly at her side and he’s saying the words she’s longed to hear for so long. He is urging her to come along, that they don’t have much time, but then Cersei is laying the blame on Tyrion. Sansa can’t help but feel like going to him, rushing to his side to defend him as he had defended her many times over.

She doesn’t get the chance, fleeing before she can even properly think it through, one foot in front of the other. The bells are heard ringing, they carry through the air almost as loud as the beating of her heart. Ser Dontos leads her to a tiny boat and it’s only then that it occurs to her. By leaving King’s Landing she is leaving her husband as well. A brave and gentle and strong husband. It gives her pause. She turns and looks at the path leading the way back to the Lion’s Den.

_Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong._

Sansa thinks if ever there needed to be a song written it was that of a Lone Wolf stuck in a Lion’s Den and the Little Lion that refused to savage her.


End file.
